Tail of the Dragon
by nikipinz
Summary: A story about the Avatar characters, set in the modern world of mobsters/yakuza.
1. Chapter 1

It was another typical Monday night, Mai thought with disinterest. Azula was draped over an overstuffed red armchair, engrossed in her chemistry textbook. Ty Lee was enthusiastically playing some video game in which a creature that resembled a pink ball was beating up something that resembled an animated tree. And she, Mai, was standing by the bedroom door, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes and ears at alert. She glanced at Ty Lee in disgust. The girl was sprawled on her belly in front of the television, engrossed in the antics of the pink ball. Her taser was in its holster on her back – Mai could see it from where she was standing. If someone were to burst into the room and attack, Ty Lee probably wouldn't even know where her weapon was, let alone be ready to respond.

But then, it had always been like this. Mai was the one who took her role as Azula's bodyguard seriously; Ty Lee simply took life as it came.

Mai was bored, as she often was. She shifted her weight from one foot to another with a soft sigh. As she did, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror across the room. She gazed at her reflection with some satisfaction. She was wearing a crisp, white shirt underneath a fitted black vest, and tailored slacks with a subtle pinstripe. The outfit showed off her long body and slim waist. Her guns, both immaculately polished, were holstered at her hips; the smaller Glock glinted against her thigh. She couldn't help smiling a little as her eye lingered on the golden gleam of her twin weapons. They were Desert Eagles, massive pistols with ten-inch barrels, capable of shooting bullets nearly as big around as her thumbs. She'd bought them about two years before, and they were still her favorite weapons.

A sudden shriek made Mai spin around! She snatched at one of her pistols as she did so. Her eyes found Ty Lee dancing about, pumping her fist in the air. "Yes!" the girl squealed, beaming. "I beat him, Mai. I finally beat him!" Her heart still racing, the bodyguard slowly lowered her gun.

Azula glanced up from her book, her eyes resting lazily on Mai. "You'd better stop screeching like that, Ty Lee," she said coolly. "One of these days, Mai's going to put a bullet through you before she realizes that it's you."

Ty Lee's eyes widened for a moment. Then she grinned widely. "Aw, Mai would never do that," she said cheerfully. To Mai's chagrin, she then bounced over to hug her, pistol and all. "I know you love me. Don't you, Mai?"

The taller girl stiffened, grimacing in the embrace._ Ugh, I hate it when she does this. "_Sure, sure. Whatever." She managed to pull out of the hug and coldly put her gun back in its holster.

"You should quit screeching, anyway," Azula said. "I have my last final tomorrow, you know, and I need to score at least 90% on it to keep my average up. I'll be very unhappy if I don't get the grade I want because you were squealing away while I was trying to study." She turned back to her textbook, her elegant black brows lowered.

Ty Lee wasn't the least bit taken aback. She flopped back down on the floor in front of the television set, grinning. "You shouldn't worry so much, Azula," she chirped. "After all, I passed all my finals and graduated last year, and you're way smarter than I am. Besides, what do you need all that school for, anyway? Your dad's Ozai. Why study when your dad's the don?"

"That's exactly what I need it for," Azula said absently, without looking up. "My father expects perfection, as he should. He'll get it, too. And," primly, "he's the kumicho, not a don. Dons are Sicilian – Father is Japanese." She rested the tip of one sharp nail on the page and turned her eyes lazily to Mai. "Get me my highlighter from my desk, will you?" Without a word, the taller girl fetched it. Then she resumed her place by the door, watching as Azula ran the marker over a paragraph. Ty Lee started a new video game – still playing as that irritating pink ball, Mai noticed with distaste. _Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I still like that girl..._

Mai and Ty Lee had graduated the year before. They had both begun their duties as Azula's bodyguards and personal assistants straight out of high school. Mai, of course, had known for years that she was destined to shadow Azula. Her father was one of the best hitmen at the Dragons' disposal, and had been training his daughter to follow in his footsteps from toddlerhood. Mai was young, but she had already proven her skills with the pistols she carried. She had proved them so well, in fact, that she had already been chosen to guard the life of the daughter of Ozai himself – the leader of the Dragons.

She couldn't remember a time without the Dragons. Her father had been working for Ozai since long before the kumicho had risen to power in the mob – he'd started with them three years before Mai was even born. When Mai had turned eleven, she had been introduced to Azula and Ty Lee. She'd been brought to the massive mansion belonging to Ozai before Azula's first day at the Academy for Girls, the school Mai and Ty Lee had already been attending for a year. Azula had been standing calmly in the driveway beside Ozai. Ty Lee had arrived soon afterward. Mai could remember being formally introduced to the two girls by her father. "This is Ty Lee," he'd said gruffly. "She's the daughter of Kuzon, the _shateigashira_. You remember." Mai had nodded quietly. Her parents had always made sure she knew the names and ranks of anybody who rated in the Dragons. As the _shateigashira, _Kuzon ran the local chapter of the mob_._ Ty Lee had smiled brightly and hugged Mai, to her great discomfort. "And this," Mai's father had said, "is Azula, the daughter of Kumicho Ozai."

Even then, Azula had been impeccably dressed and groomed, and unnervingly self-possessed. She had extended her hand regally. Mai, schooled as she was in the ways of the Dragons, had recognized the gesture at once. She took the perfectly-manicured hand solemnly and bent her head to kiss the golden ring the girl wore. Azula had been pleased, Ty Lee had giggled, and the three girls had been inseparable from that day forward.

Mai played her fingers idly along the handle of one of her guns, her eye resting on Azula. The girl was at ease, her head resting on one arm of the burgundy armchair while her legs were draped over the other. Even in this seemingly casual pose, she managed to look elegant; her legs were carefully crossed. She always looked as if she were posing for a photographer. Mai sometimes wondered how much of it was done on purpose, and how much was instinctive.

Her eye moved up to the wall. A large, framed photograph of Brigitte Bardot hung above the chair where Azula was sitting. To the right, a larger poster of Marilyn Monroe occupied the place of honor above the bed. Azula loved the old Hollywood starlets, especially the ones who'd had connections to the mafia. One shelf of her bookcase was devoted to biographies and picture books on the subject. Her other hobby was collecting mobster movies. Azula had a case next to her big-screen that held about fifty of them. Mai glanced down at Azula again. The younger girl strove to be as glamorous as her idols and as deadly as her father; Mai thought that she had more than succeeded.

There was a beeping noise, and the security monitor in one corner switched on. Mai's eyes flicked to the screen; a young man was approaching Azula's room. She didn't recognize him. Coolly, Mai drew one of her pistols and stepped over to stand between the burgundy armchair and the door. Azula looked up as knuckles rapped lightly on the doorframe. She raised a brow at Mai, then shrugged one shoulder. "Come in," Azula said. The door opened. Mai raised her gun deliberately.

The young man in the doorway stood frozen, his wide eyes staring straight down the ten-inch barrel of Mai's weapon. He looked about seventeen years old. Nervously, he raised his right hand against his chest, splaying out his thumb, middle and pinkie fingers. Mai's eyes narrowed slightly in amusement and contempt. He had just flashed her the Dragons' gang sign – a gesture that marked him as one of the many nameless, faceless, and fully expendable street hoods who ran errands for Kumicho Ozai. She didn't lower her pistol.

"Don't mind my bodyguard," Azula purred, without moving from her chair. "She's only doing her job, you know." She set aside her textbook and lolled her head languidly against the arm of the chair to look at him, managing to look both dangerous and flirtatious at the same time. "I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my studies."

"Y-yes," the boy stuttered, his eyes switching skittishly from Mai's gun to Azula's face, then back again. "I have a message for you from Kumicho Ozai, M-Miss Azula." He held out a sealed envelope. Mai still didn't move; her gaze rested impassively on his face, idly noting the cold sweat that was beading on his cheeks.

Azula smirked a little and shrugged. "Ty Lee."

Ty Lee bounced to her feet and went to collect the message from the terrified boy. She paused then, grinning cheerfully at him. "Thanks, cutie!" she cooed. Mai resisted an impulse to roll her eyes as the perky girl bounded over to put the envelope in Azula's hands.

Mai had had enough. She narrowed her eyes and put her head on one side. "Are you finished?" she asked coldly. The boy gulped audibly and nodded his head. "Good. Get out." She cocked her weapon, relishing the cold click of steel. Trembling visibly, the messenger bowed and backed from the room. The door closed.

Azula tore open the envelope as Mai coolly holstered her pistol. "You're such a bully, Mai," she said, unfolding the paper inside. "I think you scared the poor boy." The hint of a smile played about her crimson lips.

"Huh." Mai glanced at the security monitor, and saw the young man fairly running back down the hall. She smirked. "Looks like I did. Shame on me."

Shaking her head in disgust, Ty Lee flopped down to sit on the bed. "You two are so mean," she said, thrusting out her lower lip in a pout. "I think he was cute."

"You'd think a fencepost wearing pants was cute, as long as it was male," Mai said drily.

"Would not!" Ty Lee protested. Then she frowned in puzzlement. "Why would a fencepost wear pants, anyway?"

"Quiet, both of you." Azula's impatient voice froze the scathing response on Mai's lips. Both of them looked at the younger girl as she rose to her feet. "My father has a job for me," she said calmly. "He wants to talk to me right away. Mai, you'll come to my father's office with me. Ty Lee, you stay here, in case anyone else brings personal messages to my room. We'll fill you in when we come back." Azula's golden eyes were glittering with exhilaration.

"A job!" Ty Lee clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, wow. That's great! Do you think maybe he's going to make you his futon-hobo now?"

Azula growled impatiently. "_Fuku-honbucho, _Ty Lee, not futon-hobo," she snapped. "I wish you'd quit trying to say Japanese words! And I don't know what job he's giving me. I'll tell you when we get back. If you need us, call Mai's cell." She strode for the door. "Come on, Mai. Let's go." Without a word, Mai fell into step behind her, and the two headed downstairs together.


	2. Chapter 2

Even though it was a Monday night, the Iceberg was packed.

Katara supposed that she ought to have expected this. The Iceberg wasn't the most popular club in the city of Oceanside, but it was close to it. The place was almost impossible to get into. In fact, her older brother, Sokka, had already tried a number of times to get in, without success. His whining about this had finally annoyed her enough that she'd offered to help him tonight. Only fifteen or twenty minutes ago, they'd reached the front of the line, and the bouncer had stopped them. Once glance at Sokka, and the huge man had brusquely pointed at the street. "Nope. Sorry, kid. VIP's only."

At that point, Katara had stepped forward to try to change his mind. As she'd laid a coquettish hand on the bouncer's arm, she'd suddenly noticed a sharkfin tattoo on the side of his neck. Katara had instantly shifted gears. She'd intended to flirt her way in; instead, she'd pulled up the short sleeve of her shirt, displaying the stylized shark tattoo that ran down her upper arm. The man had looked at it, then glanced sharply at her face. Katara had smiled meaningfully. Without another word, the bouncer had stepped aside and unclipped the red rope that blocked the door to the club. Sokka had simply stood there with his mouth open. Katara had actually had to drag him in by his arm.

But now, Sokka was elated, grinning from ear to ear as he looked around. "This is awesome!" he said gleefully. "Isn't this awesome? Just look at them – the preppies! The yuppies! The VIP's! The potential clientèle with their big, thick wallets!"

She shushed him hurriedly. "Sokka, keep it down," she scolded. "You know this place is in Dragon territory. They wouldn't like having a small-time dealer on their turf, so keep it quiet, all right?"

He drew himself up, puffing out his chest. "Bring it on," he said. "I'm the son of the legendary Hakoda, the leader of the South Sharks. I can take on any Dragon!"

"No, you can't," Katara snapped. "I'm the _daughter_ of Hakoda, and I know better. You know very well that the South Sharks got slaughtered by the Dragons years ago. You do pretty well, Sokka, but selling tobacco-cut joints to your fellow high-school dropout friends doesn't make you a tough hood, all right? Just be careful. That's all I'm saying."

"Fine, fine." Sokka sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna go make some new contacts. You stay here by the bar where I can find you again, okay? And hey, page me if any guys try to get fresh." He hit his clenched fist warningly into the palm of his hand. Then, with a final grin and a wave, the dark-skinned young man vanished into the crowd.

With a sigh, Katara sat down on a barstool and rested her chin on one hand. Before this whole Iceberg thing had come up, she had really intended to spend this evening working on the online computer course she was taking. She had graduated high school the year before, a full year ahead of schedule. Unfortunately, she and her brother didn't have the finances for her to go to university. Katara had had to settle for taking online college courses between her cashiering shifts at Foodmart. She was studying software engineering and website design.

The bartender leaned over to her. Katara felt in her pocket, found a ten-dollar bill, and laid it on the bar. "Holy water," she said shortly. The man nodded and moved away. He returned after a moment, setting several coins before her, along with a clear glass filled with purple liquid. Katara nodded her thanks and took an experimental sip of her drink; the taste of sour and coconut liqueurs spread pleasantly over her tongue. Holding the glass, she turned on her stool and looked around idly for interesting people to watch.

The Iceberg, as high-end an establishment as it was, was still a tough place. It was a favored hangout for the Dragon elite; Katara had heard rumors that even Kumicho Ozai's children sometimes came here to do their clubbing when they were in Oceanside. She'd never actually seen them herself, of course, but she had heard. Katara sipped her drink again, watching for Dragons. It didn't take long for her to spot a group of them. There were eight or nine in all, lounging around one of the Iceberg's VIP tables, drinking and laughing. Even though they were nearly twenty yards from where Katara was sitting, she could see the three-pointed flame tattoos that marked them as members of the Dragon mob. Nervously, she shifted so that her shark tattoo was facing away from them. She was no pushover, but she didn't want to draw their attention.

Even though she wasn't exactly a hood, Katara knew how to fight. She'd been raised in the streets of Oceanside, after all. Her favored weapon was a straight razor, which she kept in a sheath, hidden beneath her shirt. But a knife would do her little good against the handguns she could see that the Dragons were carrying. Katara shivered and looked away. _No good thinking like this. _She swept the club with a glance, intent on finding somebody else to look at.

Her eye caught on a young man at the very end of the bar. She frowned. He seemed awfully young to be in a place like the Iceberg at all, and he seemed to be alone. _He can't be more than fifteen years old, _she thought. Katara took another sip and studied him closely. He was a skinny kid, although his arms looked fairly muscular. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a black t-shirt with some kind of a skater insignia on it. His black hair was shaggy, even though it wasn't long. A laptop sat on the bar in front of him, and he was busily typing away at it, all but oblivious to the world around him.

Curiosity got the better of her. Katara got up from her seat and moved over to where he was sitting, her drink cradled against her chest. She slipped around behind him, peering over his shoulder at his computer screen.

There were several windows open on the screen. One appeared to be a website. Three more held many pages of coding. As Katara watched, he switched back and forth between windows, cutting and pasting lines of code. _He's hacking into something, _she realized suddenly, her interest sharpening. _It looks like some kind of a corporate account._

Strange that someone should be hacking in such a public place. Katara wondered why this boy would choose to do his work at the Iceberg. Was he working for somebody here? Her eye strayed to the upper left-hand corner of the webpage he was cracking. She stifled a gasp – _that was the logo of the Dragons! _The idiot was hacking into an account belonging to the Dragons in one of the Dragons' hot spots? Did he have a death wish? Katara looked back at the lines of code the young man was working with. One line in particular caught her eye. _AVATAR was here AVATAR was here AVATAR was here..._ Katara's blood ran cold.

She knew who this boy was.

When Katara had been only five years old, her mother had been killed. It had been a bloody takeover of the South Sharks by the Dragons; Katara had come home from preschool that day to find her mother lying in a pool of blood just inside the door. Ever since, she had hated the Dragons with a burning passion. Because of this, she had taken note when, about a year ago, a hacker had begun wreaking some minor havoc on Dragon websites. He or she would crack codes, siphon off funds, and vanish into cyberspace, leaving only his or her calling card – a scrolling marquee that read "AVATAR was here." Katara had taken great pleasure in watching this from afar. "The Avatar" had actually become something of an internet celebrity amongst hackers; there was a lot of speculation about who the Avatar really was. Some people thought it was an inside job, a current or former member of the Dragons who held a grudge. Katara had privately doubted this, given how ruthless the Dragons were with anything that smelled of disloyalty.

And now, here he was – the Avatar himself – hacking away in plain sight! She looked around quickly, her eyes wide. A woman standing slightly behind her met her gaze. Coldly, the woman looked from Katara to the computer screen, then turned away. Katara's heart nearly stopped; she was heading for the table where the Dragons were sitting.

Katara didn't even pause to think. Taking three quick steps, she set her drink down on the bar beside the laptop and smiled as the astonished boy looked up. "Why, hello!" Katara said cheerfully. "Imagine meeting you here. Isn't this our favorite song? Come on, let's dance." She grabbed him by the arm and nearly dragged him toward the dance floor. The young man uttered a soft cry of protest, barely managing to snatch up and close his computer as he was hauled bodily from the bar. Katara dragged him through the crowd, searching for her brother. _Come on, Sokka, where are you?_

The boy began to resist after a few seconds. "Uh...I'm sorry, Miss, but you must have mistaken me for somebody else..."

There was no time. Katara quickly pulled him against her as if they were slow dancing, putting her lips next to his ear. "No time to explain," she hissed. "I'm trying to save your life, Avatar. Play along!" The young man's eyes widened. He gave her no further trouble as she again began to thread her way through the gyrating bodies, still looking for Sokka. _Damn it, Sokka, where in the hell are you?_

At last, she spotted her brother. He was dancing with some blond girl in a short skirt. Katara quickly made her way to them, pulling the young hacker with her. Sokka yelped as his sister grabbed him by the arm, then dragged both boys to a corner. "We have to get out of here," she said urgently. "They're..."

"Who's he?" Sokka demanded suddenly, scowling in the hacker's direction. "Was he getting fresh with you, Katara? Because I can-"

"_Shut up, _Sokka!" Katara could see Dragons beginning to weave their way through the dance floor, looking around. She spotted one carrying a revolver; her heart nearly stopped. "Dragons," she said, shouting so he could hear her over the pounding music. "They're after us!"

Sokka's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything more. Instead, he jerked his thumb at a nearby staircase. "This way," he said. "They'll be watching the front and back doors." The three quickly dashed up the steps, dodging assorted groups of clubbers as they went.

Katara looked back; she couldn't see if any of the yakuza mobsters had seen them. Panting, she ran along the upper floor of the club, trying to keep her brother in sight. Sokka headed straight for a door that was prominently marked "Fire Escape." As his hand fell on the knob, Katara suddenly spotted a warning sign above it. Her hands flew to her mouth. "No! Sokka, don't!" she cried. It was too late – the door swung open.

Instantly, the fire alarm began to screech, and red lights flashed. As shocked and horrified as the three were, they didn't hesitate; they fled down the fire escape. Sokka sprinted up the alley, heading for the back streets. Katara followed, with the young stranger hot on her heels.

The staccato sound of gunfire erupted behind them as they turned the corner! Katara uttered a little scream of fright. _They're trying to kill us! Oh, God. _Her legs felt like lead. _They'll hunt us down like animals. What are we going to do? _Her hand rose instinctively to her throat, to the blue shark necklace that she always wore. It had once belonged to her mother. _Mother, help us, _she pleaded silently.

With a squealing of brakes, a navy-blue car pulled up beside them, and the passenger door swung open. "Get in!" someone yelled.

Katara stumbled to a halt, and made out the grizzled face of the bouncer from the Iceberg. There was no time to consider other options. "Sokka!" she screamed as she jumped into the car. Her brother yanked open another door and leaped into the back seat, closely followed by the young hacker and his laptop. Tires squealed again as the car leaped forward. Panting for breath, Katara slumped down in her seat and looked into the rearview mirror. Four shadowy figures emerged from the alley they had just run from; she saw muzzle flashes as they fired at the retreating car. With a gasp, she ducked down. None of the shots hit the vehicle.

For several minutes, the bouncer drove with his gas pedal to the floor. They flew down the empty streets, turning corners at dangerous speeds. At last, the man glanced at his rearview mirror and tapped on the brakes, slowing to a more respectable rate. "I think we lost them," he said calmly. "You kids all right? No one got hit?"

Shakily, Katara looked down at herself and inspected her limbs. "I'm okay." She looked behind her. "Are you all right, Sokka?"

"I'm fine." Her brother looked shaken. He glanced at the strange boy, his blue eyes suspicious. "How about you, laptop guy?"

"I'm all right." The boy nodded and smiled gravely, looking up at Katara. His large gray eyes met hers. "Thanks," he said. "I appreciate the help, Miss -?"

"Katara." She reached a trembling hand over the seat to shake his.

The boy nodded again, a wide, infectious grin splitting his face. "My name's Aang," he said.

The bouncer glanced at the girl in his passenger's seat. "Katara," he said. "I thought so. You look a lot like your mother. You're Hakoda's daughter, aren't you?" Her eyes widened as he glanced back at her brother. "And you must be Sokka, his son. Pleased to meet you both."

"Who're you?" Sokka demanded rudely.

Grinning, the bouncer signaled and turned right. "No, I guess you kids wouldn't remember me. You were still in diapers the last time I saw you, Katara." His eyes twinkled with amusement as she scowled. "My name's Bato. I used to be your father's right-hand man, back when the South Sharks ruled this neighborhood."

"Bato? I remember that name. Father still talks about you." Katara stared at him, taking in his slightly-grizzled hair, his strong jaw, and the sharkfin tattoo that still showed on his neck. "So you're a bouncer now?"

"Yeah. Pays the bills." Bato made a face. "Although I think I'd probably better move on, after tonight. The Dragons will have noticed who cut you three loose." He grinned at the apologetic look on Katara's face. "Oh, don't you worry about me, Missy. I'm always glad to be a burr in the Dragons' saddle. I should thank you for giving me the chance." The car slowed to a stop at a red light. "You kids still living at your dad's place, or have you got your own crib now?"

Sokka leaned forward in the back seat. "We've got our own pad," he said proudly. "It's in the Glacier Apartment Complex. You know where that is?"

"Sure. I grew up on these streets, boy. I know Oceanside." Bato turned the vehicle down the street that led toward the apartment building. "All kidding aside," he said gravely, looking at Katara again, "you kids shouldn't tangle with the Dragons. They've got more power behind them than the governments of most countries – more firepower, too. Stay off their radar after this, all right?"

Katara didn't need any encouragement. "I intend to," she said quietly. "It was...an accident." She looked back at Aang. The boy was looking out his window. He gave no sign that he'd even heard her last remarks.

When the car pulled up in front of the building, they all got out. Katara paused before closing the car door, leaning down to look at the bouncer one more time. "Thank you, Bato," she said softly. "I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't driven our getaway car. You probably saved our lives."

"No problem, little lady." He flashed her a crooked smile. "Just don't make a habit of needing that kind of thing, all right? Say hello to your dad for me."

"I will." Katara shut the door. The car pulled away from the curb. She waved as it turned the corner and sped off into the night. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the two boys. "Well," she said, "what now?"

Sokka shrugged, casting yet another suspicious glance at Aang. "Whatever we do, let's do it inside," he said. "We need to talk about this, and I'm hungry." Katara glanced at Aang. The boy nodded his acceptance, and the three young people headed up the stairs that led to Katara and Sokka's apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

Even though Mai had been friends with Azula for years and served her full-time for close to twelve months, it wasn't often that she even saw Kumicho Ozai, let alone his office. She felt a certain sense of awe as she followed two or three paces behind Azula – the elegant mahogany doors lay ahead, flanked by two men in dark suits. Mai knew that they carried handguns every bit as powerful as hers. Her own future probably held a fate similar to theirs, unless Azula decided that she was worth more than just a bodyguard or a hitwoman. Mai kept her eyes fixed on the back of Azula's dark navy blazer as they stepped through the doors into the kumicho's office.

Kumicho Ozai was sitting at his desk, an ornate and intimidating piece of furniture formed of dark wood. Azula stopped about five feet from it, bowing from the waist. Mai dropped to her knees and bowed her forehead respectfully to the floor. She remained in that position for ten seconds, counting them silently in her head, before sitting up on her heels.

Both Ozai and his daughter ignored her. "You sent for me, Father, and I'm here," Azula said, taking a step forward. She stopped then, clasping her hands behind her like a soldier at attention. "What would you like me to do?"

"I have a job for you, Azula." Ozai rose to his feet, stepping around his desk with a calculated grace. Mai stole a glance at his face and shivered a bit. Kumicho Ozai always reminded her of a cobra – cold, shrewd, and very deadly. "I want you to go and find your brother, Zuko, for me."

Mai blanched. She was suddenly very glad that neither Azula nor her father was paying any attention to her at that moment.

Two months after meeting Azula for the first time, Mai had met her older brother, Zuko. She could still remember that moment. She, Ty Lee and Azula had been playing hopscotch on the sidewalk in front of the mansion when he had walked up. How tall and mature and utterly perfect he had seemed to her! He'd been thirteen years old, then – practically a god to the eleven-year-old Mai. He had favored Mai and Ty Lee with a thin, polite smile before going in the front door. Mai had been entranced. "Who is _that?" _she'd asked Ty Lee, keeping her tone carefully bored. (Even at that age, Mai had already learned to keep her emotions masked; it was far safer that way.)

Ty Lee had giggled. "Him? Why, that's Azula's big brother, Zuko, of course," she'd said. "Isn't he just dreamy?" Without waiting for an answer, the flighty Ty Lee had then hopped nimbly through their hopscotch game, ending by turning a handstand and walking about on her hands. She was already a gymnast, and a good one. Azula had then knocked Ty Lee down, Ty Lee had cried, and all talk of Zuko had passed from the girls' minds for the moment.

That had only been the start. Mai became infatuated with the tall, dark-haired boy. Both she and Zuko were reserved, but what conversations they had were satisfactory, and they got along well – a fact not lost on their parents. The year she turned fourteen, Mai's father had called her into their living room and informed her that she and Zuko had been promised to each other. Arranged marriages were not uncommon in the upper echelons of the Dragons, so Mai had expected an announcement of this sort, but she hadn't necessarily expected it to be the handsome son of the kumicho himself. Although she had calmly bowed, inwardly she had been jubilant.

The next two years had gone as well as could be expected. Mai's mother got pregnant and gave birth to a son that she named Tom-Tom. Mai played with her little brother, did well in school, built her friendships with Ty Lee and Azula, and had the occasional supervised date with Zuko. She especially loved the times when she would go over to Azula's house, and Zuko would come find her. They would slip away together and walk in the gardens behind the mansion sometimes, or go to his room and sit on his bed and talk quietly.

Then Mai's father had received good news. Because he had carried out his assignments so well, Ozai had appointed him as the _shateigashira_ of Omashu, a city some three hundred miles from Soleil, where they lived. This was a great promotion, as it meant that her father would be in charge of Omashu's chapter of the Dragons. After some discussion, her mother and father had decided to move to Omashu and leave Mai in their house in Soleil to finish out her schooling at the Academy for Girls. They had gone a month later, taking little Tom-Tom with them.

Mai hadn't been close to her parents, so she didn't really feel their absence too keenly. Theirs had always been something like a business relationship; she'd been raised knowing that her father's role with the Dragons came first, and she came second. She'd relished her newfound freedom. The house staff took care of her needs, so she hadn't even had to learn how to cook. Mai had devoted herself to her schoolwork, to perfecting her shooting skills, and to Zuko.

It was with Zuko that the benefits of being alone in her house had really come into play. He took to coming over most days after school, and they would do their homework together, or watch movies, or just sit and talk. Around January of that year, she remembered him sitting with her on the big couch in her entertainment room. She had been sixteen, and he had been eighteen. They had watched a movie together – something involving lots of explosions and car chases. Afterwards, they had just sat together on the couch, cuddling. They had often kissed before then, but that night had been different. She remember how his touch had seemed to send currents of electricity through her body. Then he had kissed her. She'd lost track of everything but him for some time after that.

She'd heard some girls talk about losing their virginity with regret. Mai had never regretted giving hers to Zuko. He'd been gentle and caring, and had even asked her, after it was over, whether she was all right. Mai had given a small huff of laughter and told him, brusquely, not to be an idiot. The incident began a pattern between them. They still did their homework together and acted as if nothing had changed; but about once a week, they would have their "movie night." The movie itself was often a secondary consideration.

And then, that summer, the blow had fallen.

It was a warm July morning when Azula phoned and invited Mai over. Mai had taken her time over breakfast and walked over, since Kumicho Ozai's mansion was less than a block from her house. She'd found Azula and Ty Lee in Azula's room. Ty Lee's face was tearstained, but Azula was grinning like some diabolical Cheshire Cat. "Have you heard the news, Mai?" Azula had asked. "Father marked Zuko yesterday!" Mai's blood had suddenly run cold, despite the summer heat.

There were three punishments among the Dragons – death, _yubitsume, _and marking. _Yubitsume_ involved the cutting off of fingers; marking involved the deliberate infliction of some kind of wound on the face, often a burn, in order to leave a disfiguring scar. For Ozai to have marked his only son...Mai's mouth had felt horribly dry. "What happened?" she'd asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

"Zuzu challenged Father in front of his council," Azula had gloated. Her golden eyes were glinting with fierce joy. "Father cut his face and told him to get out. Zuko's gone – he'll never be allowed back in this city again, or the Dragons will kill him." She had rubbed her hands together and laughed with delight. "Now I'm the first in line!"

So Zuko had been banished as well. Azula was right – he would never be able to return to Soleil, or any other city where the Dragons held sway, on pain of death. Mai had swallowed the lump in her throat with difficulty. _He's gone._ _I'm never going to see him again, _she'd thought, with dreadful finality. She had left Azula's house early that day, claiming a headache, and gone home. Once there, she had locked herself in her room and sobbed bitterly for nearly three hours.

A week later, though, things had changed. Mai had begun receiving text messages from Zuko on her cell phone. They were never long, and never revealed much about where he was or what he was doing, but they came regularly, every second or third day. She never told Azula or Ty Lee about them, but she and Zuko had been sending them to each other faithfully for the past two years.

And now Azula was speaking. Mai snapped out of her reverie and listened intently. "Find Zuko, Father?" The girl's voice had a bit of an edge. "Whatever do you mean?"

Ozai's thin lips curved into a smile. Again Mai was reminded of a snake. "I've just received word from one of our operatives near Omashu," he said. "It seems that your uncle, Iroh, has taken your brother under his wing." Mai saw Azula's eyes flicker and narrow. Iroh had once been a prominent member of the Dragons; he had, in fact, been considered as the next kumicho. But when his son, Lu Ten, had been killed in a shootout with members of the Dai Li gang, Iroh had withdrawn from the Dragons. Ozai had risen to power in his absence. There was a price on Iroh's head. Only his considerable fighting prowess had saved his life thus far. "We cannot allow traitors to begin banding together, particularly traitors in the family," Ozai said calmly. "I want you to track down your brother and your uncle, and bring them back to me alive. They probably won't come willingly – but I'll leave that problem for you to solve, my daughter." He handed her a memory stick. "This contains all the information our spies have gathered. I want you to leave as soon as possible."

"Then I will go tomorrow afternoon, Father. I have my last final in the morning." Azula inclined her head. "Can I bring Mai and Ty Lee with me?"

"By all means," Ozai said smoothly, resuming his seat as his desk. "Only be sure that Mai will be able to keep her personal feelings out of the matter."

Azula looked down at the kneeling girl beside her. Mai kept her eyes fixed on the floor, schooling her face into careful neutrality. She could hear her own heart pounding in her ears. "Mai is a professional," Azula said coolly. "I've yet to see her allow her personal feelings about anything get in the way of her duties. I'm certain she'll be up to the task." She paused. "And may I raid your personal armory, Father?"

"Yes. Tell the guards I'm allowing you any two weapons of your choice." Kumicho Ozai opened a drawer of his desk, took out a black leather cardholder, and tossed it in his daughter's direction. Azula caught it easily. "Use those as you have need," the kumicho said lightly. "I'm trusting in your discretion, Azula. Now, off with you. I have work to do."

"You won't be disappointed, Father." Azula bowed – seeing which, Mai did the same. She rose from her knees, eyes averted, and followed her young friend from the room in silence.

Azula turned her steps toward the hall that held his weapons room. As she did, she flicked open the cardholder her father had given her. Mai caught sight of three credit cards inside. With a small smirk, Azula closed it and slipped it into her pocket. "You'll help me choose my weapons, Mai. You're my gun expert. I want ones that you already know how to clean and maintain," she said. The older girl nodded blandly. She was still reeling from the news that they were going to capture Zuko, but she couldn't help feeling a little rush of excitement at the thought of going inside Ozai's armory. The kumicho owned a large collection of deadly and expensive weapons, which Mai had only seen once before. She looked forward to seeing it again.

Two more black-suited men guarded the door of the weapons room. Azula paused to favor them with contemptuous glances. "My father has given me an important mission," she said regally, "and I need equipment for it." The men bowed respectfully. One of them quickly tapped a code into a keypad by the door; with a click and swish, the latch released, and the door swung open. Azula strode into the room confidently, with Mai trailing behind her.

It was just as Mai remembered. The room was large and austere, the walls, floor and ceiling painted white, like in a hospital. The only furnishings were gun cabinets and wall racks that held countless weapons – everything from handguns to shoulder-mounted rocket launchers. Azula paused, her eyes running thoughtfully over the walls, before finally heading to a cabinet in the far corner. "We'll choose from these," she said, flinging open the cabinet's oak doors to reveal its contents. Mai stepped up behind Azula and peered over her shoulder.

The cabinet was about seven feet tall and five across. Hung on pegs and hooks along its back was a selection of automatic rifles and machine guns, some of which Mai had never even seen before. Mai ran her eye appreciatively along the sleek lines of the weapons, longing to take them in her hands and stroke them. Azula took down a machine gun and, turning, handed it to her companion. "I like this one. Do you know how to use it?" she asked.

Mai looked down at the weapon. It was streamlined and smooth to the touch, its casing formed of gray metal and some kind of hard, black plastic. It was fairly heavy, but not awkwardly so. She examined the trigger mechanism and tested the strength of the shoulder strap, then released and reloaded the clip. The crisp sound of it made her shiver with pleasure. "It seems fairly standard," she said quietly. "It should work. I can look up its exact make and model tonight and find out anything else I might need to know."

"You do that." Azula turned away, leaving the machine gun in Mai's hands, and examined the contents of the gun cabinet critically. After a moment's thought, she leaned down and selected an Uzi. "This will do, I think. You do know Uzis, right?"

"Yes. I know Uzis." Mai nodded, her eyes glowing as the second gun was handed to her. It was lighter than the first weapon, its polished black surface gleaming. She didn't have to do more than a cursory inspection. "This is the same model I trained with four months ago," she said. "I already have all the things I'd need to maintain it for you."

"Perfect." Azula smiled briefly and turned back toward the door. "Let's go and tell Ty Lee. I still have to study, so you and Ty Lee can pack my things for me tonight." Mai nodded quietly and fell into step behind her leader, swinging the strap of the machine gun over her shoulder. The door swung shut behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

Mai had just about finished packing.

Her clothes and things hadn't taken long – fifteen minutes of shoving things into a small suitcase and a couple of garment bags, and she was done. She always packed light when she was on the road. What had taken the time was her choice of weapons.

Although her selection wasn't nearly as large as Ozai's, Mai had a fairly well-stocked gun cabinet. – Two of them, in fact, since she had taken up collecting rifles as well as sidearms in recent months. The first thing she had done, with a deep sigh of regret, was to clean and put away her beloved Eagles. As much as she adored the guns, she knew they were too unwieldy for actual fighting. Instead, she had chosen two black Glock 17 handguns from her collection. They were far more practical in a fight, and also were far easier to clean and maintain than her larger pistols. She set them carefully on the table. As a backup, she took out a Colt revolver. This went into a padded case, along with ammunition.

Then came her choice of rifle. She wouldn't have bothered bringing one, except that Azula had made a point of telling her to do so. Mai didn't take long to make her decision. With a small smile, she drew her M40 from its place, her hand gently caressing its smooth stock.

This sniper rifle had been a recent addition to her collection. She'd been trying to get her hands on one for months. In fact, she'd almost had to settle for buying a Remington 700 instead. Fortunately, one of her black market contacts had come through, and she had managed to buy the gun at a very reasonable price. It was a beauty, with telescopic sights and a bipod, and an effective range of over a thousand yards. Mai could take out a target from more than half a mile away with this weapon. The idea made her smile; Mai loved stealth.

Gently, Mai took the rifle apart and packed it into its silver case. She'd had the case custom-made for this gun. Humming softly to herself, she turned to the cabinet that held her ammunition. She selected a box of .300 cartridges. Then, with a small smirk, she added a box of M993s – black-tipped, armor-piercing ammunition. Azula hadn't told her specifically to bring those, but she thought they might come in handy, should she have to shoot at someone wearing a bulletproof vest. It paid to be prepared.

This thought gave her pause. Her fingers stopped in the act of adding the box to the M40's padded case. _Zuko. _Mai sighed, dropping the ammunition, and sank into a nearby chair.

She'd been trying not to think about the ramifications of the task they had been given, mainly because she was trying to just get everything done that she needed to do. Now, though, in the safety of her own home, she had both the time and the space that she needed. Mai drew one of her Glock pistols toward herself and began to play her fingers idly over its grip.

Kumicho Ozai had ordered Zuko and his uncle brought back alive, but Mai was under no illusions about that. There was a price on both their heads; Ozai held no love for either of them. Even if Zuko was his son, she had no doubt that the kumicho would not hesitate to kill him. So there was a chance – a much greater chance than she liked – that Azula might order her to shoot at him at some point during this mission.

_So the question is – what would I do if she ordered me to shoot him? _Mai laid her hand flat on the table, no longer playing with her pistol. _I could just miss, I suppose. But that wouldn't work for long…I wouldn't be the only one shooting, I'm sure, and she'd guess something was up. No, actually, she's Azula. She'd _know_ something was up. _Mai sighed and shook her head. _Maybe this is just one of those things that I'll have to play by ear. I'll figure things out as we go. _

There came a knock at her door, and Ty Lee poked her head inside. "Hey, are you ready, or what?" she asked cheerfully. "'Zula and I are waiting for you outside. We're taking the Maserati! This is going to be the best road trip _ever._ Omashu is awesome!We'll get to stay in hotels, and eat at restaurants, and –"

"I'm ready," Mai said hurriedly, cutting off her friend's excited babbling. "If you want to grab that suitcase and one of those garment bags, Ty, I can carry the rest." She rose to her feet, shutting the case that held her sniper rifle. The gymnast nodded agreeably and grabbed the bags. Taking up her remaining luggage, Mai followed the girl from the room.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It had certainly been a night full of unexpectedness. Katara shook her head slowly as she turned on the coffeemaker and turned back to the stove. She hadn't really planned to go to the Iceberg, but she had. She'd never dreamed that she would meet the Avatar himself, let alone have him spend the night on her couch, but that had happened, too. And she had certainly not planned on attracting the attention of the Dragons, or being shot at.

She shook her head again as she cracked eggs into a saucepan. That part still didn't seem real to her. She'd heard the shots, of course, and she knew all of it had happened. It was just…odd. Growing up in the slums of Oceanside, Katara had heard and seen shootings, but she had never been the target herself. Distractedly, she poked the egg yolks and began to stir them with a fork. And then there had been their talk the night before, when they'd finally reached the safety of their apartment…

Aang had apologized for putting them in danger. Then he had told his story. He had been a foster kid living in Temple, a tiny little town on the border between California and Mexico. Because of its location, Temple had been one of the key points in the artery that kept cocaine flowing from South America into the Dragons' hands in California. From there, the Dragons would distribute it amongst their chapters across the western coast.

And then someone – Aang had no idea who – had stolen a shipment of the drug while it was in Temple. The reaction from the Dragons had been swift and ruthless. Aang had been only twelve at the time, and had been away at summer camp. When he returned home, he found that Temple had been completely and utterly destroyed. There had been no other survivors, as far as he knew, and every building had been burned to the ground. Aang had pretty much been on his own ever since, refusing to go back into the foster care system. His cheerful nature had given him advantages, in that most people who met him were happy to help him. He'd never had trouble finding work, even though he had been underage. There was only one black mark on his easygoing disposition – Aang was determined to bring down the people who had destroyed his childhood home. He was gunning specifically for Kumicho Ozai.

"He's not a good man," Aang had said gravely, cradling the cup of tea that Katara had poured for him. "The Dragons were originally a pretty decent organization, true _yakuza. _They're descended from the samurai, you know. They'd protect people, and they did community service things. Stuff like that. Only minor brushes with the law. But then Ozai's grandfather came along, and things started to change. Now they're just the mob – drug dealers, blackmailers, protection scams, the whole bit. And they keep expanding. They've pretty much got control of California now, and they're trying to branch out into Nevada. If they take control of Vegas, it'll be bad. It has to stop."

"I'm with you, man." Sokka, despite his initial coolness toward the boy, had clapped him on the shoulder. "Our dad used to be the leader of the South Sharks here in Oceanside. When the Dragons moved in here, they just slaughtered us. Battle royale! I can get behind anyone who wants to take them down."

Katara had looked at the skinny boy soberly, reflecting on the power of the Dragons organization. "How do you think you can get at a cartel as powerful as the Dragons are, Aang? You're just one boy. Even the cops haven't been able to crack them yet."

"By doing things the cops can't – or won't," Aang had answered promptly. "The hacking thing is working, for example. I've diverted nearly two million dollars in Dragon drug money so far."

"Two million bucks?" Sokka's eyes had bugged out. "What the hell? Why aren't you living in a mansion somewhere, or something?"

"I don't keep it." The Avatar had frowned at him. "I'm not in this to make myself rich. I keep myself in computers, of course, so I can keep doing it – but the rest of it, I've sent to charities and stuff. I gave the last lot to a group that builds houses for homeless people, for example…"

Sokka had rolled his eyes. "Two million dollars, and he builds shacks with it," he'd muttered.

Quietly, Katara flipped over the omelet she was cooking. Sokka wanted to help Aang, she knew. He'd even offered to drive the boy to the city of Omashu, nearly an hour away, to introduce him to what Sokka referred to as "some muscle." "I know someone who can help us," Sokka had said with a grin. "It's good that you've got brains, Aang, but you're going to need people who can defend you, too, and I know just the person. I'll take you to Gaoling Street in Omashu tomorrow and introduce you."

It was all beginning to sound more and more dangerous. Katara frowned into her saucepan as she sprinkled seasoning over the food. She wanted revenge as much as her brother did – the death of her mother was a wound that rankled badly. But she didn't want to lose Sokka, too. There would be a lot of risk involved, here. She let her hand drift up to touch her necklace, running her fingertips over the smooth stone. _Aang has already shaken the Dragons up pretty bad, _she reflected. _I think he can take them down, if he has people to help him. Am I willing to be one of those people? _She thought of her brother's enthusiasm, and sighed. Sokka had already made up his mind, she knew – and Katara couldn't let him just dive headlong into this without her. Resolve hardened. _Okay, Aang. I'll put my faith in you. And you had better not let me down._

The omelet was flipped out onto a plate. Katara set it on the table. "Soup's on, boys!"


	5. Chapter 5

Now that they were actually in Omashu, driving up Gaoling Street, Katara had to wonder if she had been right to come in support of her younger brother. The place was rough – worse even than the slums where they had grown up. The street was lined with neon signs advertising strip clubs and seedy bars and adult movie rentals. Groups of obvious prostitutes and drug dealers dotted the broken sidewalks. Frowning, she glanced at Sokka, who was driving quite serenely. "Do you come here often?"

He glanced at her sheepishly, understanding her tone at once. "Just for the fight club. It's the only local venue of the ERCFF." Katara raised a brow severely. "Earth Rumble Cage Fighting Federation," he explained, with a wide grin. "It's awesome! Makes all that wrestling on t.v. look like a tea party. You'll see, Katara. And you'll like the Blind Bandit." He suddenly pulled a left, slipping their car into an empty parking space. The three stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Here we are, kids – the Gaoling Earth Rumble. Follow me." Aang did so, his hands thrust calmly into his pockets. Katara glanced around, shivered, and followed the boys past a silent bouncer and through a door.

The place was absolute chaos. It reeked of sweat and old beer and tobacco. As Katara threaded her way through the crowd, trying to keep Sokka and Aang in her line of sight, she caught whiffs of sickly-sweet smoke. _Hash. Great. _She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the cocktail of odors. She didn't mind bars so much, but this place was just...well, _raunchy. _It was exactly the kind of place her brother would love. _How the two of us ever came from the same parents, I'll never know, _she thought in exasperation. At last, after much ducking and weaving, she managed to make her way to the front row, pushing in beside her older brother. They were right up against the metal mesh of the cage.

It looked as if a fight had just ended. People were milling around in the cage; one was busily mopping up what looked like a pool of blood. Katara shuddered. _Barbarians. _She glanced around uneasily. _I hope we can just get to this Bandit girl quickly and get out of here. _Sokka was grinning. "Hey, we're just in time. The Blind Bandit's up next!" he said cheerfully. "Wait'll you see this, Katara. You'll never believe your eyes."

"Up next?" Katara echoed. "You want to watch the fight?"

"Well, why not? Since we're here." His smile grew a bit sheepish again at the look on her face. "Aw, come on, Katara. We can't talk to her until afterwards, anyway. Why not take in the show, first?"

"Sokka..."

Before Katara could protest, pounding rock music blasted out of the speakers. "And now for the main event of the evening, guys and gals!" the announcer bellowed. He was shirtless, with tattoos covering nearly every inch of his visible skin. He pumped his fist in the air. "Our challenger hails from Los Angeles, California. At six foot eight, weighing in at two hundred and eighty-five pounds – guys and gals, put your hands together for – _The Boulder!" _The small crowd went wild, cheering and hooting and pounding their feet on the floor. A huge man stepped into the cage. Katara's eyes widened; he was built like a tank, his muscles massive and sculpted. The Rock raised one fist into the air and roared, stomping around the ring like a bull.

The tumult following this had barely died down when the announcer spoke again. "And your champion, guys and gals. She hails from good old Omashu, California. At five foot one, weighing in at one hundred and ten pounds – give it up for the_ Blind Bandit!"_

Katara's mouth fell open as the champion stepped into the ring. She was dressed in loose, black pants – probably some kind of martial arts things – and a green tank top. Her feet were bare. She had short, black hair, the tips of which had been dyed a flaming red. Her face was painted in white, with a band of black across her eyes and the bridge of her nose. She was wearing a headband with brown cat-ears. Her arms were covered in green and gold tribal tattoos. And she was _tiny! _Katara wondered whether the announcer's claim of one hundred and ten pounds hadn't even been inflated a little. Alarmed, Katara looked at Sokka; the boy was grinning hugely, his eyes sparkling as he watched the Blind Bandit strut around the cage. "Sokka, they can't let this happen," Katara protested. "Look at how tiny she is. He'll kill her!"

"Hey, relax." He shrugged and smiled at her. "You've never seen the Blind Bandit in action before. She can take care of herself." Katara watched in growing horror as the cage door was closed. Both fighters were working the crowd, striking poses and snarling and pumping their fists. Someone nearby was taking bets – four-to-one odds favoring the Bandit. _Are these people all insane? _Katara thought, bewildered and alarmed.

The bell rang, and the fighters squared off. The Boulder lumbered forward and swung his huge fist! Katara gave a squeak of terror and covered her eyes. She heard the crowd roar its approval. Timidly, she peered through her fingers, and saw that the Blind Bandit was still very much alive and unharmed. The big man swung at the tiny girl again. Quick as lightning, the Blind Bandit twisted her body to one side, and his blow struck empty air.

Time after time, The Boulder tried to strike his much-smaller opponent, and she simply dodged, sometimes with amazing displays of agility. After a while, scattered boos began to rise from the crowd, and a chant of "Ban-dit! Ban-dit!" went up. Katara saw the girl smirk a little. Her nimble feet suddenly stopped moving, and she stood with her back against one wall of the cage. Katara's eyes widened as she saw the Blind Bandit raise her fists and stand at the ready. _Oh, crap. She's dead... _The Boulder roared and charged at her like a linebacker, his huge shoulder lowered.

There was a blur of motion, and a crash! The big man stumbled backward, stunned. The tiny girl had slipped away at the last possible instant, and he had run head-first into one of the posts of the cage wall. The Blind Bandit whirled on the ball of her foot, bringing her leg around in a devastating kick that connected with The Boulder's kidney. He gave a howl of pain! Now furious, the huge man tried a kick of his own. The Blind Bandit dropped low to the ground, letting his leg whistle through the air above her head, and lashed out at the knee that anchored his body. He went down hard.

"She used his own momentum against him," Katara whispered in amazement, watching as the Blind Bandit danced back. The Boulder lumbered to his feet, now both angry and bewildered. It was obvious that he was tiring. Sweat was dripping off his body. They had been fighting for several minutes already, and he had yet to land a blow. He lunged at the tiny girl again, this time trying to crush her in his arms. She darted out of his way, neatly tripping him. Katara saw another faint smirk curve the girl's lip. As the exhausted Boulder began to get up, the Blind Bandit acted. Her leg whipped around to kick his arms out from under him, sending him crashing face-first into the floor. Katara flinched – then again, as she brought her foot down ruthlessly on the back of his head. She struck again, and again, until finally the bell rang that ended the match.

"What'd I tell ya? What'd I tell ya!" Sokka was practically jumping up and down with glee. Katara felt sick. She glanced at Aang; he looked a little green, as well. The Blind Bandit was grinning from ear to ear, pumping her fist to the cheers of the audience.

There was more noise from the announcer, and more blasting rock music. Sokka caught at Katara's arm as the Blind Bandit left the ring. "Come on," he shouted over the din. "This way." She followed after him with Aang on her heels. In the chaos, they managed to slip past security guards and into the hall that led to the fighters' dressing rooms.

The Blind Bandit's dressing room was marked with a sheet of looseleaf paper held up by two pieces of masking tape. Sokka looked around, then rapped on the door with his knuckles. "What?" came a sharp voice from inside. "Just come in, damn it. Don't waste my time." Katara raised her brows – this didn't sound overly promising. Her brother, however, was unperturbed. He simply opened the door and walked in.

The room was fairly small, with off-yellow walls and a green couch. An open door to the left led to a tiny shower stall. The Blind Bandit was sitting on the couch, wiping off the last remains of her makeup. As she looked up at them, Katara nearly gasped at the youthful freshness of her face. She didn't look a day over thirteen years old! Her eyes were an odd shade of light green, and she had numerous piercings in her ears and face. The girl scowled, tossing a broken hand mirror onto the couch. "Who the hell are you?" she said bluntly.

Sokka cleared his throat. "Um...Sokka. Remember me? We met a couple weeks ago." The Blind Bandit raised a brow. "You know – Club Kyoshi? I bought you a drink."

"Oh, right. Sokka." The girl smirked as she began to tie a piece of twine tightly around her upper left arm. "You're that idiot that's always been pestering me for my autograph and dates and shit. I really oughtta get a restraining order on you, or something." She began to rub the inside of her left elbow with her fingers.

"Yeah." The young man shifted and laughed nervously. "Uh..."

"Aw, look. And you brought your girlfriend today. That's cute." The Blind Bandit glanced coolly in Katara's direction. "What, were you hoping for a threesome?"

"No! Ew. She's my sister!" Sokka blanched.

The girl laughed shortly, not in the least put out. As Katara watched in distaste, the Blind Bandit produced a syringe, slid it into a vein, and depressed the plunger. The green eyes caught hers after a moment. The Bandit grinned at her expression. "Relax, Pollyanna. It's insulin. Nothing to upset your grandma." Without further comment, the girl tossed the used needle into a nearby trash can. "So what do you want, Sokka? - And no, I won't go out with you."

_This girl obviously knows that much about my brother. _Katara couldn't restrain a bit of a smirk at Sokka's flustered expression. "No, no! I'm not trying for a date this time. We want to...well, we'd like to use your services."

"My services." The black-haired girl raised a brow at him as she cast aside the twine she'd used to bind her arm a moment before. "What in the hell are you going on about?"

"Well, I heard you aren't opposed to a little extracurricular fighting. And Aang here might need a bodyguard or two." Sokka waggled his eyebrows. Beside him, Katara rolled her eyes and covered her face with her hand. _Tell me he's not breaking out his Sokka-the-pimp routine... _"So what do you say, Blind Bandit? Would a lovely and dangerous lady like yourself want the job?"

"A _bodyguard?" _The girl looked Aang over in obvious disbelief and contempt. "What would you need a bodyguard for, pansy boy? Are the jocks at school giving you atomic wedgies or something?"

Katara frowned at this. "He's the Avatar," she said, lowering her voice. "You know – the hacker who's been causing all the problems for the Dragons." The Blind Bandit fell silent abruptly. It was obvious that she knew something about this. Her face was expressionless as she looked at Katara. "We're trying to help him save the country from the Dragons, but we need help. They've already shot at us once."

Coolly, the small girl leaned back on her couch. "Right. So because Light-in-the-Loafers here has a Superman complex, I should put my ass on the line for him. How much does it pay?" Sokka rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and hedged a little. "Oh, I see. And I'm supposed to do this for free? Just out of the goodness of my soft little heart." The Blind Bandit snorted and turned away. "Please. Give me a break. Take Twinkletoes here and get lost before I call security."

Dejected, Sokka turned away. Katara followed him, but not before darting the Blind Bandit a look of disgust. _She's probably just a hood anyway. Good riddance! _"Well, that was a waste of time," she muttered as they slipped out of the room.

"I don't know." Aang, who hadn't spoken yet, now paused. He looked back into the dressing room, then smiled at Katara and her brother. "Give me a minute, you two. I'll talk to her. Maybe I can make some headway." Sokka just gaped at him. Katara gave a slight shrug. With one more quiet smile, Aang ducked back into the dressing room. The door closed behind him.

There was a pause. Then Katara eyed her brother with a frown. "So this was your great plan? To go to some tattooed cage fighter you've hit on a few times and try to persuade her to help us for free?" He grinned and shrugged, his cheeks reddening a little. "Sokka!" she cried, exasperated. "Do you even know her _name?"_

"Well, no. But hey, I'm a charming guy. I can be pretty persuasive, y'know." He flashed her his most charming smile. Katara struck her forehead with her palm and turned away. Even if her brother did have flashes of brilliance at times, she sometimes wondered how in the world he had survived until now.

After about twenty minutes, Aang reappeared. He grinned peacefully at Katara. "She says she'll talk to us later," he said. "There's a pub down the street called the Flying Boar, and she'll be there in half an hour. So I guess we'll just have to hang out there until then." With a shrug, he headed back down the hall that led into the arena.

"_What?" _Sokka was flabbergasted. He scurried after Aang. "Hey, wait! What'd you say to her? How'd you persuade her to meet you anywhere? I've been trying to get a date with the Blind Bandit for months, and she'd never even look at me."

"It's not a date," Aang said. "I just talked to her." His mild gray eyes turned to Katara as they walked. "We seem to be spending a lot of time in bars together lately. Kind of weird, huh?"

"I guess it is, kind of." She didn't know if she liked the idea of meeting the brash, foulmouthed cage fighter in a bar in this seedy neighborhood. "Do you think it's safe?"

"Maybe not. But it'll be better than the Dragons, right?" The Avatar grinned cheerfully as they emerged into the street. The neon sign above the Flying Boar blinked about a block to their left. "Hey, there it is. Let's get down there and have some fries or something while we wait. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?"

"I guess so." Katara hesitated as the boys headed down the street, looking around. A group of scruffy-looking men eyed her from a nearby doorway. With a gulp, she hurried her steps after her companions, heading for the Flying Boar.


End file.
